


Uncertain

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series: Victims of Love, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-09
Updated: 2000-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Undercover work. Leather pants. Confrontation.This story is a sequel toUnfaithful.





	Uncertain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Uncertain - by Ashinae  


**Rating/Warning:** NC-17. Slash, sex. If you're too young for this sorta thing, run now.   
**Pairing:** Fraser/Vecchio   
**Disclaimer:** I still don't own them. I'm getting the sinking feeling I *never* will!   
**Spoilers:** nope.   
**Summary:** Undercover work. Leather pants. Confrontation. Just read it.   
**Notes:** Wow, it's long... at least compared to the others. Not much to say, really, just that it's *so* almost done. 

Feedback is craved!! :) 

* * * * *

**UNCERTAIN** \- July, 2000   
by Ashinae 

*

The look Turnbull gives me as I step into the Consulate is priceless. It's like at first, he doesn't know who I am, then he doesn't know what to make of me being here, then finally he just shakes his head. 

"Are you looking for Constable Fraser?" he asks when he finds his voice. 

"Yeah. Is he in his office?" 

"I am afraid he has the day off, Detective. He is probably at home." 

That went by too fast. "I thought he was living here." 

"He was, until a few days ago. He has moved out." 

And he couldn't say that *sooner*? And I can't believe the amount of time it takes me to get Fraser's address from him. I manage to escape the scene as soon as Thatcher steps out of her office. I don't need to deal with *that*--her--today. 

*It's not any better than his old apartment!* I think to myself in a mix of amazement and disgust as I stand outside of Fraser's door. I'm afraid to knock. I don't think he'll want to see me, but I need his help. 

I half-expect him to open the door, like he was able to hear my heartbeat or something. 

But I knock anyway and he looks more than a little shocked to see me. 

"Uh, hi, Fraser." 

"Ray. What are you doing here?" 

I look anywhere but at him for a moment, but finally I have to. I can't see *anything* in his eyes. "Fraser... I need your help." 

He frowns. "With what, Ray?" 

"A case I'm working on, Benny." We *both* wince when I call him that. I can't help it. 

"Please?" I add. 

He glances away, then nods. "All right." 

So he grabs his hat and Dief and we go out to my issued car. 

"Sorry about the Riviera, Ray," he says softly. 

I shrug, then fill him in on the case. I'm going undercover again, and I need someone there with me. Nobody really wants to do it, and Welsh told me to get Fraser. I protested, but he fixed me with a Patented Welsh Stare and I said, "All right, fine." 

A certain night club in town is known for its varied illegal activities, the biggest being heroin trafficking. "They" want *me* to go in there and catch them, but I need someone to go with me. And I find myself wondering just *why* it was suggested that Fraser come with me. 

Did I forget to mention that much of the business generated by the club is from Chicago's gay community? I find myself wondering *now* if Welsh somehow suspects there is--was--something between me and Fraser. 

The afternoon is spent getting ready for what's coming tonight. Mingle, look like you *belong* there, Fraser! We decide to meet there. So at nine o'clock, I'm sitting at the bar, waiting for him, wearing 'basic black', and oh my God, what have they done to him? I don't know whether to laugh at him or just continue to stare with my chin hanging halfway to the ground. 

He looks extremely uncomfortable, especially considering more than half the eyes in the place are on *him.* 

Not many people can pull off leather pants. 

Of course *he* can. 

Damn he looks tempting. I remind myself we're here on business, and that's just that, no need getting worked up over the Mountie again because you know what he did to you, Vecchio, so just roll up your tongue and get your eyes back in your head. 

He's not yours anymore. And you sure as hell aren't his. 

**

The night's subterfuge proves to be unsuccessful. We have accomplished nothing more than becoming more and more uncomfortable as the night draws on. Dancing together was nothing but torture... and the pants... chafe in a most unpleasant way. 

Ray's cologne invades my senses in a most unpleasant way as well. 

It is altogether possible that if I had... if I hadn't... then Ray and I might actually be able to make some *fun* out of this situation. But instead, I don't think we're convincing anyone we're a couple, and I am feeling claustrophobic and paranoid. I feel like everyone knows we don't belong, that each and every security guard in the place knows we're there to see if we can shut down their operations. 

We leave with nothing. 

Ray and I sit silently in his car for a moment before I tell him I need to work in the morning. He says he does as well, and I say good night. 

He follows me up to my apartment. 

Dief is lying unhappily on my bed; he was sent home earlier today. He stares at us for a moment, snorts, and looks away. I swear he rolls his eyes. 

I turn back around and see Ray leaning against the closed door, green eyes watching me intently. 

"Those things fit you really good, Fraser," he says softly, his eyes travelling up and down my legs. 

I find my face growing warm. "They are extraordinarily uncomfortable." 

"You decide to wear those on your own?" he asks. 

"God, no," I reply. 

"Too bad, Fraser." His eyes meet mine again. "I coulda sworn you were teasing me all night." 

I shake my head quickly. "No, Ray. Not at all." 

"I think you were." 

I take a step towards him. "If I had been 'teasing' you, you would have known it, Ray." 

And everything else seems to disappear because he's pulling me to him, and he's kissing me, hard, claiming my mouth as his own again. I moan, my body melting against his. We shouldn't be doing this, this is *wrong*, because I gave up the right to hold him and be held by him. But this is real, this is happening, and I can't stop it, can't stop him, can't stop my body's reaction to the man it knows owns it. 

Ray is tearing my shirt off me, and buttons go flying. I try to pay back the favour, but he pushes me back on my bed, and I barely register Dief's exasperated grunt as he jumps off and heads to a corner of the room. I lift myself up onto my elbows and watch as Ray strips away his clothing, then all but pounces on me. He holds my hands up above my head with his own, his mouth devouring mine, his tongue ravishing my mouth. 

I am moaning constantly, rubbing my body up against his, desperately wanting to be out of the confines of the pants I'm wearing. Ray suddenly lets go of my hands and slides down my body, leaving a wet, hot trail of kisses in his wake. His hands open the fly and he starts to push the pants down my hips when he stops and looks up at me with a wicked gaze. 

"Benny," he says, voice teasing, leaning down to kiss my right hip. "I never knew you even *knew* you could wear pants without underwear." 

I swallow. "I had to, Ray. They're too tight..." 

He sits back and pulls the pants off me entirely. "Remind me to get you hot and bothered when we're back there tomorrow night." 

Our eyes meet and I think the sudden reality of the situation comes crashing down on both of us. Are we really going to do this? 

Whether or not there is any feeling besides lust involved? 

His gaze tells me, yes. My heart tells me, no. But to hell with my heart. 

I slide a bit further up the bed, and roll onto my stomach, lifting my hips off the bed for him, desperately, moaning, like a whore... I need him, need the sweet oblivion that I know he can give me, need him to hurt me... 

Tears sting my eyes when I think that. Yes--I want him to hurt me. 

"Please, Ray," I plead, "please take me. Use me. Do it, now, please!" 

His hands grasp my hips tightly, holding them up, and he leans down and runs his tongue along my lower back. I moan softly, and the moan grows louder as I feel the bed move as he moves down lower, and I feel his hands spread my buttocks and his warm breath-- 

"RAY!" I shout as he thrusts his tongue inside me. My hands clench my blanket and I arch my hips up towards him. "Ray, please--don't--just--" Within a matter of seconds, he has rendered me incoherent. 

I love him. 

He torments me with his tongue for a while longer, holding my hips tightly as I moan and writhe beneath him. "More, Ray, more!" I yell, and expect my new neighbours to be pounding on the walls any second. 

And soon enough, Ray is moving back up my body, holding my hips steady as he slides himself inside me, and I am lost to the sensations coursing through me. My body is simply one large nerve ending, and every touch, every thrust, every breath on the back of my neck makes me moan and plead for more. 

It isn't enough. Not enough at all, I need more, need him, need oblivion... 

He's speaking to me. It takes a moment for that to register. 

"... gave it up. Why, Benny? Why'd you throw it away? Wasn't it good enough for you?" 

"Raayy..." 

"Was he good, Benny?" He stops moving entirely. 

I almost whimper. *Don't do this now!* 

He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "Did he moan and beg for it like you do? *Did he?* Did you like having your cock up his ass? Did it make you forget me, forget you were betraying me? Did you like it?" 

"*Shut up and fuck me!*" I surprise both of us with the outburst, but Ray just laughs and starts moving above me again. 

I do beg for it--loud enough that I am sure to hear complaints tomorrow, but not caring. I don't care because this is *Ray*, Ray above me, inside me, saying my name as I beg him for more, more, harder, faster, dammit, Ray, harder, harder--*YES!* 

**

Damn him. 

And his leather pants. 

This was a big mistake. Big huge fucking mistake and what was I thinking, but that's just it because I wasn't thinking instead I just drooled all over him and his fucking leather pants and I couldn't say no to my body and *fuck him.* 

*You just did!* that little voice says and damn it sounds proud of itself and I seriously consider throwing myself out the window just so I don't have to put up with it anymore. 

Watching him sleep reminds me of too many nights from *before* and God knows I won't be able to handle waking up in his bed. Knowing full well that he'll probably hear me, but also knowing that I can't stay here, I slowly get off the bed, find my clothes, and, watching him, put them back on. Dief stares at me from under the table, and my eyes meet his and dammit, even the *wolf* makes me feel like a bastard. 

No. Not me. Him--Fraser did this, did all of it. It's him, not me. It was never me, it was always about him and his neediness and his... everything. 

Fuck him. 

Sighing, I leave his apartment and head home. 

The next night, when I pick him up at the Consulate like we had agreed, he just sort-of smiles at me, and we don't speak of what happened the night before. Fine with me. 

But back at the club, it's like we're challenging each other, seeing who will snap first as we try to fit in and do our job while fondling, stroking, making eyes at each other, doing things on the dance floor that *should* make him blush, should make even *me* blush, but they're not. We don't get anything done because by ten o'clock we're far more interested in other things than the assignment and we should feel guilty, but once we're back at his apartment he's got his tongue half-way down my throat. 

There's no love in this, no real desire. Just the need to let go of emotions, anger, frustration, pain... a need to punish each other and ourselves. 

And there's someone knocking on his door. 

As I start buttoning my shirt up again and try to look *somewhat* normal, Fraser goes and opens the door. 

I almost fly past him in a rage and strangle Kowalski. 

Fraser stares at Kowalski. Kowalski looks uncomfortable, as he damn well should, and I fix him with my best Glare. 

"What the fuck do *you* want?" I demand before either of them can say anything. 

He glares back at me. "I wanted to *apologise* for everything, Vecchio," he snaps. "But if you don't want to hear it, that's fine." 

"Good, get lost!" I'm *this close* to yelling, but I won't. He's not worth it. Stupid little fuck. 

"Fuck off," Kowalski says and *finally* Benny speaks. 

"All right, all right," he says, in a calm voice that I have to give him lots of credit for. "Say what you came to say." 

Now Kowalski has the "decency" to look down. His voice gets all sad and I have to fight back the urge to laugh at how put-on this is. 

"Look, Frase... I know I apologised before, but I wanted to again. I'm leaving Chicago, I dunno how long for. Going to Arizona. Uh... yeah. So I just wanted to, um..." 

"Oh good Lord," I mutter. 

"Shut up, Vecchio!" 

"Why don't you get out of here, *Stanley*? You're not wanted. We were getting on fine without you." I look at Benny, and notice the way he's clutching the doorknob, hard enough that his knuckles are turning white. The man is shaking, and I'm the only one who notices. I walk forward and say to him, softly, "Benny, go sit down at the table for a sec, okay? I wanna talk to Stanley, here." 

He nods numbly and I grab Kowalski's arm--probably harder than I should've, but I gotta admit that I enjoy the wince on his face--and drag him into the hall. "What the *fuck* are you doing here?" I ask. 

"I came to apologise to Fraser. Didn't I make that point loud and clear?" 

"No, I think you just came to stir up more problems." 

"Ya know what, Vecchio? I think--" 

"I don't care what you think. I don't even believe you *do* think." I scowl at him. "You realise Benny's got himself convinced he raped you?" 

His eyes widen at that. I'm not sure whether or not to believe it. Then the expression changes, to something bordering on a smirk. It's not pretty. 

"Look, Vecchio, you make sure Frase realises that I wanted it. Does he think I'm gonna press charges or something like that? Cause I'm not." He gives a little shrug, and again his expression changes, something almost guilty, but... "If ya ask me, it's a little... unclear who forced who--whom--whatever." He shakes his head, then the smirk is back. "He's gotta have told ya that I was all over him." 

He smirks more when it's starting to be obvious I can't control my anger. 

"Yeah," he continues, in such an off-handed way that I want to punch him, "he scared me. Yeah, he hurt me. But, trust me, Vecchio--I liked *every fucking second* of it. If I could do it all over again, I would." 

I do hit him. Square in the jaw and it feels so fucking *good* to see him reel back and put a hand to his face. His blinks at me a few times. 

"Okay, guess I deserved that one." 

"Yeah. You did," I tell him, managing to keep my voice kinda even. "Now get out of here before I hit you again. You're not helping things." 

The smirk again. Goddamn him. "No, guess I'm not. Not that I *wanted* to help you get back with him." 

I don't know where it comes from, but I say sharply, "You *don't* love him, Kowalski. You never did. You just wanted to hurt him and make him miserable. If you loved him you would have told him 'No.' You know that as well as I do. Now *get lost* before I arrest you for trespassing!" 

He looks stunned. Then his jaw clenches and he glares at me. "You don't know *anything,*" he snaps. "But fine, I'll leave. Tell Frase I said goodbye, that I'm sorry and that there's nothing to forgive, all right?" 

I don't say anything. I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest--yeah, I know, I'm threatening and all--until he finally turns and walks away. 

"Good riddence," I mutter, then go back into Benny's apartment. Closing the door firmly behind me, I start saying, "Can you believe the nerve of that little fuck?" when I look over to the kitchen table and Benny's not there. I glance around quickly, and spot him sitting on the bed, legs up to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes are fixed firmly on a spot on the floor, tears are streaming silently down his face, and Dief is sitting by the bed, watching him, looking... well, yeah, the wolf looks worried. He can do that. 

"Oh, God, Benny," I say softly and hurry over to him, sitting next to him on the bed. He flinches away violently when I try to put my arms around him, but again I see him crumble and he leans heavily against me. I almost can't support his weight, but he needs me and I hold him tight, rocking him as he lets go of it all. 

"I hate him, Ray," he says brokenly. "I hate him for what he did to us, I hate him for replacing you. I hate myself for not having control. I don't care what he says, I--" 

"You didn't," I say firmly. 

"You don't know anything!" He pushes me away, staggers to his feet and stands above the bed, angrier than I've ever seen him. "You weren't *there*, Ray! You didn't see it, didn't feel it, couldn't smell his fear! I've never hurt anyone like that before! What have I done?" And I see him shaking again and I'm up on my feet next to him before he can collapse. 

I pull him against me and plant us both firmly on the bed again. "Benny, listen to me. Maybe you see it the way you do, but I don't think he does. And even if he does, there's no way he's going to admit it. You know there's nothing *anyone* can do if *he* won't say what... happened." 

"I betrayed you." 

"I know you did." 

"Damn him." 

"Yeah, Benny." 

"Please don't let me go." 

"I won't." 

But when he cries himself to sleep, I gently pull out of his arms, cover him up and once again tiptoe out of the apartment with Dief watching me accusingly. 

I'd call him a stupid wolf, but he's a hell of a lot smarter than he looks. 

FIN


End file.
